


Dehumanize Me

by Orcusnox (Cat9894)



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 20:09:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7771462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cat9894/pseuds/Orcusnox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's something about <i>this</i>, Peter thinks, that makes everything... Easier.</p><p>(AU where Peter kept Venom, and Deadpool is contracted to kill the black Spiderman.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dehumanize Me

    There’s something about _this_ , Peter thinks, that makes everything… Easier.

    Oh, he hasn’t given up. He won’t, ever. But when he wakes up in a different part of his apartment to where he started, hours later and with the symbiote humming happily in the back of his mind, his memory blank of what had happened during the elapsed time, well.

    Peter thinks those are the nights he sleeps best.

    That’s not to say he approves of what Venom makes his body _do_ during those brief periods of blankness and not-quite-there-ness. He doesn’t, especially not when the symbiote manages to make a mess out of things – which happens a lot.

    The Daily Bugle is in a tizzy. They can’t seem to figure out that the black Spiderman and the red and blue Spiderman are the same – if Jameson _has_ figured it out, he’s ignoring it. For once, Peter’s boss is quite happy to make Spiderman the hero.

    Because the black Spiderman is definitely a villain.

    _“Let us in,”_ Venom hisses in his mind, black claws digging into his head as Peter makes his way through his day. _“Let us in.”_

    It’s easier to ignore the symbiote when it rains. The creature doesn’t like water, isn’t fond of the texture or the way it moves. So Peter takes to walking through the rain without an umbrella, just for the brief moments of silence he gets in return.

    The nights after he does that… Those nights are the nights he wakes up, throat raw and breathing jagged, panic coiled in his chest and the symbiote hissing cruelly in his head. Venom doesn’t like the rain, after all.

    Sometimes, Peter _remembers_. That’s the worst part about keeping control – even when the symbiote manages to gain the upper hand, Peter doesn’t always get pushed out of the way entirely. He can still see, still hear – brief snapshots of reality before he goes back to the nothingness he usually finds himself in. Venom’s not doing it on purpose. Peter knows because when he asks, Venom gets angry and defensive.

    It rained that day. The day that would turn into the night the black Spiderman met the mercenary known as Deadpool for the first time. Peter walks alone, face tilted up towards the sky, gentle smile on his face. He really does love the rain, nowadays.

    In his apartment, he takes two steps before blackness overtakes him. The symbiote is loud, angry – the rain had been a surprise, not forecasted by the weatherman. Peter feels his body leap from the window, catches his reflection in the windows they pass.

    “You’re not Spiderman!” someone shouts.

    Venom doesn’t get hurt often – generally, it’s Peter’s spider sense that saves it and him. But this time, something happens, something changes, and Venom lets out an unearthly howl. Peter jolts a little closer to the surface, because he hadn’t felt the familiar tingle of warning down his spine. He _does_ , however, feel the stinging slice that burns across his arm.

    “Yeah, suck on that you imposter!” the person shouts. “Teach you to mess with someone like me! Hey no wait, why are you running? The fun was just beginning! Come back!”

 

-x-x-x-

 

    It’s another two weeks before Peter meets the man again. This time, he’s properly Spiderman, crouching on a rooftop in the rain. His arm has healed, the pain nothing more than a memory that Peter sometimes grins at, because the symbiote hates how it was injured.

    Venom’s hissing quietly at him. _“We could make the bad go away,”_ it says. _“Let us in, Peter Parker.”_

    “I wish you’d stop saying my name like that,” Peter mutters. “Only my aunt calls me that.”

    _“Let us in and you will have no need of that name,”_ the symbiote insists. _“We will be Venom.”_

    Peter hums. “Venom _is_ a cool name, I’ll give you that. But I’m definitely more of a red and blue kind of guy. Black isn’t really my colour.”

    “I don’t know, Spidey, I think you could pull of any colour you wanted!” someone says, and Peter jerks around in surprise.

    Standing on the rooftop behind him is a tall, muscular man. He’s dressed in a red and black leather suit, complete with combat boots and black gloves. His mask is… strange, and for a moment Peter can’t quite figure out _why_ he thinks that, but realizes the reason a moment later.

    “Gotta say, haven’t seen you around as much as I’d hoped,” the man continues, waggling his eyebrows. The mask moves seamlessly with his face, the white eyes of the mask mimicking the way the man’s eyes narrow and then widen. “But you talk to yourself too! That’s so cool, and yet another thing we have in common!”

    “Are you trying to copy my suit?” Peter blurts out.

    The man gives an offended huff. “Moi? Steal from you? _Never_! You _totally_ ripped the idea from me, Spidey. What? No way! No, shut up, we _like_ him, he’s a hero! Right?”

    It takes Peter an embarrassing amount of time to realize that the man is talking to him. “I am,” he replies. _Most days_ , he adds silently to himself.

    The rain is still falling, and when lightning flashes – Venom shrieks in his head, the noise drowning out the next rumble of thunder – it illuminates the man better. Peter is a little surprised to identify the guns attached to his thighs, and what looks to be a pair of swords strapped to his broad back. That’s not even mentioning the knives all over his body, or the pouches around his waist that Peter _feels_ will hold dangerous things.

    _Overkill?_ he thinks.

    “What, my babies?” the man asks, and Peter realizes he spoke out loud. “There’s no such thing as overkill in my business, Spidey. And what a business it is, not that you’d agree because, _technically_ , we’re on opposite sides of the fence.” The man gasps, exaggerating his movements and expression to be seen clearly through the mask. “A star-crossed love! Fate!”

    Star-crossed, of course, reminds him of the symbiote still snarling in his head. “If you’re not trying to copy my suit,” Peter says, choosing to ignore the way his head starts pounding like it usually does when the symbiote is mad, “can I ask who you are?”

    The man gasps. “You don’t know who I _am_?” he demands. When Peter gives him a headshake, the man starts pacing. “Okay, so obviously I haven’t thrown you off a bridge… And damn, not the ‘verse where we’re best buds… Because that’s the best one, let’s be real… Except for that part where I kill you…”

    _“Let’s kill him,”_ Venom hisses.

    “No,” Peter whispers back, voice hard. “I’m not a killer.”

    _“But you are,”_ the symbiote says gleefully, and Peter flinches.

    “I’m Deadpool!” the man – Deadpool – exclaims. “The Merc with the Mouth!”

    Peter tilts his head. “Deadpool,” he repeats thoughtfully. “What are you doing in my city?” he asks.

    Deadpool freezes. “Aw damn, I was hoping he wouldn’t ask that,” he mutters to himself. “I, um, actually… I’m here on a job.”

    Peter makes a movement that roughly translates to ‘Please, go on’. He’ll have to leave soon – the rain is stopping, the storm having run its course.

    “Er, you see, I wasn’t fibbing about the whole opposite sides of the fence thing. My job basically involves… Unaliving people.”

    Venom laughs. _“You attract all kinds of monsters, don’t you?”_ it snarls. _“Us, your friend, this… Deadpool…”_

    Peter grits his teeth. He doesn’t actually think the man in front of him – _mercenary_ , his mind supplies – is all bad. Certainly not bad enough to be titled a monster.

    “You, on the other hand,” Peter mutters, “definitely deserve it.”

    “Say what?” Deadpool asks. “Are you… Are you going to kick me out? Because I promise, it’s totally just one job, and I thought you’d be interested in helping me out, maybe? Hell, I’ll even share the bounty with you!”

    “Why would I want to help you?” Peter demands, thrown off balance. He hadn’t thought – surely the mercenary can’t tell?

    Deadpool bounces forward with a shark-like smile. “Because my target is your buddy, the black Spidey!”

    _Of course it is_ , Peter thinks. He laughs – rude, what would Aunt May say? – and leaves the puzzled mercenary on the roof. He only barely makes it to his apartment before Venom starts throwing a tantrum.

 

-x-x-x-

 

    Peter loves that New York gets so much rain. He used to hate it, back before the wetness meant keeping his head clear. Venom has tried to get him to leave on multiple occasions, with different methods. So far, Peter has resisted.

    He’s walking in the rain, headphones jammed into his ears and hands in his pockets, when a hand catches his elbow. Startled, he spins, yanking his elbow from the grip and nearly falling over in the process.

    “Hey, whoa, sorry! Didn’t mean to startle you, but you gotta know that walking around like that is going to land you with a cold, right? And colds are a nasty business, I hear!”

    Peter blinks. “Deadpool?” he says, the name falling from his lips automatically. And indeed, the man _does_ look like Deadpool. He’s got the same broad shoulders, only instead of being held back and wide, the shoulders on this man curve inwards, protective. The suit is missing – instead, the man wears jeans and a hoodie.

    Maybe he is wrong. Maybe this isn’t Deadpool.

    “Say _what_? How the fuck do you know my name, kid?”

    And maybe not.

    Peter has a second to comprehend the scars – so many scars! – he can see beneath the hood before the other man whispers a very confused, “Spidey?”

    Peter has another second to open his mouth to deny it, but before the words get out sunlight shines and then blackness falls.

    Peter blinks, and he is in his apartment. Venom is growling softly in his head.

    “What did you say to him?” Peter demands, running shaking fingers through his hair.

    _“We said_ nothing _,”_ the symbiote replies.

    “Liar,” Peter snaps. “You said something. What was it?” When the symbiote remains silent, Peter narrows his eyes. “I warned you, Venom. If you said anything that revealed who I am –”

    _“We did no such thing. You did that yourself, Peter Parker. We simply told the Deadpool that you’re_ ours _.”_

    Peter works his jaw for a moment. “Why would you do that?”

    _“Because it is true,”_ Venom hisses.

    “Do something like that again and I’ll –”

    _“You’ll what?”_ the symbiote interrupts, sneering. _“Don’t pretend to threaten us. We know you won’t get rid of us, because you’re_ afraid _. Puny Parker, afraid of the things that go bump in the night.”_

    Peter shakes his head. “ _I’m_ one of the things that goes bump in the night,” he says.

    _“No, you are the hope in the dark. But you won’t be forever… You can’t resist us for that long.”_

    “Watch me,” Peter snaps, and then he marches to the bathroom for a shower he _knows_ the symbiote will loathe.

 

-x-x-x-

 

    Peter doesn’t seek out Deadpool, but the two of them do meet. Generally, it’s when the weather’s horrible. But sometimes Venom lets Peter be himself on the warmer, drier days. Today is one of those days, and Peter’s fighting some weird sewer monsters.

    They smell _so bad_ , bad enough that Venom is content to sit this one out, muttering in the back of his head. Peter’s going to have to bin his suit when he got home.

    _“We can keep the smell away,”_ Venom says, although it sounds less than enthused about the prospect. _“Let us in…”_

    “As much as I hate the smell, I’m going to have to say no to your offer,” Peter replies breathlessly, webbing one of the creatures to the wall and landing a solid punch, which is enough to knock the tangled creature out. “I can just get some new materials… It’s been a long time since I sewed a new suit.”

    _“Too much trouble,”_ Venom says in disgust.

    “It’s actually pretty fun,” Peter disagrees, dodging a particularly nasty set of teeth and leaping up. He sticks easily to the ceiling of the sewer, regarding the remaining sewer monsters who clamour just below him. “Maybe you should try it some time.”

    _“Kill them.”_

    Peter shakes his head, dropping back down into the fight. The next few minutes are a confusing mess of limbs, the fight less of a planned thing and more of reactions. Peter lashes out with controlled strength, careful lest he unwittingly shatter something important.

    Like a skull.

    _“You don’t need control. You need us to help you let go…”_

    Peter stops, panting as he regards the mostly silent creatures. “Now you’ve got that song stuck in my head,” he says. “Can you not talk about killing for maybe two seconds? You _know_ I’m not going to let you do that – you’ll just try and force yourself out.”

    _“Because we know what’s best.”_

    Peter can’t help it – he laughs. “Venom, there is no way you know what’s best. You’re not from around here.” Peter lifts up several of the creatures effortlessly. “What good do you think will come of me acting like you?”

    _“We would be strong.”_

    “I’m already plenty strong, thanks.”

    _“They would_ fear _us.”_

    “They already fear you,” Peter says. “I don’t want them to fear me too.”

    _“Don’t you want more power, Peter Parker? Always the weakling, treated like_ nothing _… We could make you something.”_

    “Have you forgotten? I _am_ something. I’m Spiderman.” Peter grins, tossing the sewer creatures into a neat little pile and covering them in webs. “I don’t need you to become something.”

    _“Then why do you keep us here?”_ the symbiote hisses. _“You know how to get rid of us…”_

    “You know very well why,” Peter replies, crawling back out of the sewers. It’s easier. Venom gives him something to focus on, something to fight that isn’t the horrors he sees when he closes his eyes. Something tangible and _real_.

    The symbiote makes a thoughtful sound. _“That’s not all.”_

    Peter jumps out onto the street, giving a little bow to the gathered civilians who saw him go down into the sewers, and has a quick word with the cop standing off to the side. He’s very aware of how badly he smells, and he’s grateful that the cop doesn’t make as much of a fuss as he could have.

    “We’ll send someone down to collect them,” the cop tells him, and Peter gives a nod. Then he’s gone, leaping up into the air and swinging off to find the next spot of trouble.

    He doesn’t notice he’s being followed, hasn’t noticed that the mercenary he’s met a few times already has been following him all day, watching and listening.

    Peter lands on a rooftop, perching on the edge and watching the busy city below him. “No,” he says eventually. “That’s not all.”

    _“Then what?”_ Venom asks.

    Peter laughs – the symbiote sounds so _frustrated_. It’s refreshing, knowing that Peter’s managing to teach it. When Venom had first bonded with him…

    _“Then what?”_ Venom insists, breaking Peter’s train of thought.

    Peter shakes his head. “You don’t get answers for free.”

    The symbiote snarls. _“Then we’ll just rip the knowledge from your head.”_

    It’s the only warning Peter gets before the pain starts. He isn’t aware of dropping to his knees, isn’t aware of grasping at his head, isn’t aware of his fingers ripping through the mask to grip his hair and _pull_.

    _“Tell us!”_ Venom shrieks. _“We demand to know!”_

    Peter staggers to his feet, away from the edge of the roof. “Didn’t your mother teach you _manners_?” he pants.

    _“We demand it!”_

    “Demand all you want,” Peter gasps. “I. Said. _No_!”

    There’s a trick to regaining control of his mind, Peter’s learned. A mental twist, so to speak. Sometimes, it’s easier than others. This time it’s hard – he has to struggle with the symbiote, the two of them pushing against each other until one of them wins. In the early days, it was almost always Venom.

    Venom flashes over his suit, grabbing control from Peter for seconds before Peter forces him back. It turns into a game of tug-of-war, one that seems to last for an eternity but probably only lasts a few minutes at most. They both collapse, exhausted.

    Peter expects to hit the roof with his face. It takes him a moment to realize he hasn’t, but he’s so _tired_ he can’t think straight. He spares enough energy to think he’ll be fine to pass out since Venom’s so exhausted, and then the world goes dark.

 

-x-x-x-

 

    It’s very disorientating waking up.

    To begin with, he wakes up to the sound of things crashing and a voice cursing. He’s on the ceiling faster than he can blink. He looks around, spots the window, and darts towards it.

    Only… He never quite makes it.

    A hand catches his ankle, words in the air. Peter refuses to acknowledge them, lashing out with his considerable strength. There’s a crack, a muttered curse, and then he’s yanked from the ceiling and back down onto the bed. He lands in a tangle of limbs, bouncing once before there is a heavy weight on top of him.

    He tries lashing out again, panic singing through his veins and Venom egging him on in his head. Peter’s rendered immobile by the weight, and even super strength can’t get him out of this hold.

    “Will you just stop struggling for two seconds and listen?” a voice demands. “I know, a lot of people _don’t_ listen to me, but I can be very hard to ignore and it’s actually pretty insulting that you’ve managed to do so well at that. Ignoring me, I mean. Yes, I realize. _No_ , I already said we’re not going to! Trust me, White, I know _exactly_ how many tacos and chimichangas we can buy. Taco Bell won’t know what hit them. I _said no_!”

    Peter freezes, blinking. “D-Deadpool?” he asks.

    “Hey! Look who’s back with the land of the listening!” Deadpool’s mask grins. “How do, baby boy? You’re so _cute_!”

    It’s at that moment that Peter realizes he destroyed his mask in his fight with Venom. His muscles, which had started to relax with the realization that he _knows_ the person above him, tense all over again.

    _“Kill him,”_ Venom says, but the symbiote sounds just as tired as Peter feels, so Peter can ignore it easily.

    “Whoa, settle down! I just said, I’m not going to unalive you! But it seems to me you have something of a hanger-on, if you catch my drift. You _do_ know you have a weird, black sticky looking thing attached to you, right? I mean, it’s sort of gone now – don’t ask me where, I’m drawing a blank – but I swear on my love of the word chimichanga that it was there!”

    Peter blinks at him. “Why did I wake up here?” he asks. “I – the roof. I was on the roof. And –”

    “And you were in some serious trouble, Spidey! I saved you!” Deadpool smiles proudly. “Now I just gotta figure out a way to get black Spidey off of – out of? – you.”

    “ _No_ ,” Peter snaps, voice hard and sharp. “You leave that alone.”

    Deadpool goes still above him. “Hold up. What?” He tilts his head. “It _almost_ sounds like you _knew_ about the black Spidey being in – on? – you. But that’s wrong. Right?”

    Peter glares at the man on top of him. “Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence,” he says. “Of course I know. I’m not an idiot.”

    In a flash, his spider sense starts screaming and Peter realizes that wasn’t the smartest thing to say in response. He’s flinching away even before the knife comes anywhere near his throat, limbs attempting to free themselves from the hold Deadpool has him in.

    He can’t move an inch – super strength, apparently, only gets you so far in these situations. Venom snarls in his head, the slow throb that signals the start of a migraine. Deadpool’s knees press tighter against his sides, uncomfortably snug against his ribs.

    The knife is cold against his throat, sharp edge nicking his skin. Peter can feel the blood starting to bead along the edge of the knife, welling to the surface. There’s no pain, not yet, but with the way Deadpool’s fingers are clenching around the handle, Peter’s bracing himself for what’s coming.

    “Explain it to me, since I’m obviously an _idiot_ ,” Deadpool snaps. “Why the _fuck_ would you not get rid of it? Unless you don’t know _how_ , in which case I’m here to help!”

    Peter stays perfectly still. “I know how to get rid of it,” he admits. “But –”

    “Nu-uh-uh,” Deadpool says, shaking a finger in Peter’s face. It takes Peter a moment to realize that hey, he’s free to move – but by the time he does, Deadpool’s shifted the knife, pressing it a little harder against his throat.

    Peter elects to remain motionless.

    “Unless the next words out of your mouth are the stars are not in position for this sacrifice or some real shit like that,” Deadpool continues – and wait, did he just quote The Road to El Dorado? Peter blinks, thrown, and misses the rest of Deadpool’s little speech.

    _“Kill him,”_ Venom repeats, and he sounds a little more awake.

    “Did you just quote The Road to El Dorado at me?” Peter asks, a little blankly.

    Deadpool stops. Pauses. “You got that reference?” he demands.

    “No, it went completely over my head,” Peter snaps in reply, before he can think better of it. He shrinks backwards, trying again to wriggle out subtly from beneath the larger man. It’s hard to do anything subtly when you’re touching in most places, but Peter tries anyway.

    “Can we keep him?” Deadpool whispers. “No, of course I know that… Now you’re just being ridiculous… You’re right, I know… There’s gotta be a reason.”

     _“We need to kill him before he kills us,”_ Venom says, and Peter catches a hint of worry in its tone.

    Peter snorts. “Why does everyone want to kill?” he mutters.

    _“Survival,”_ the symbiote hisses back.

    “I don’t know – I still happen to be alive, and I haven’t killed anyone.”

    _“You have,”_ Venom reminds him.

    Peter flinches, and then glares. “That’s what we call a low-blow, asshole,” he snaps.

    _“I’m not wrong.”_

    “As fascinating as this is,” Deadpool says, and Peter remembers that yes, he _does_ have a knife to his throat. His spider sense, however is being extraordinarily quiet, all things considered. “I’m not letting you up until you share with the class.”

    “The class being…?”

    “Me and the boxes,” Deadpool replies, tapping the side of his skull. “They say hi.”

    Peter blinks. “Er, hi. Nice to meet you?”

    _“Insane,”_ Venom says.

    Peter silently agrees. He doesn’t really care, but he’s not about to deny the man on top of him probably has lots of issues. Huge issues. Hell, his issues probably have issues.

    “You sure know how to win a girl’s heart,” Deadpool says.

    Of _course_ he said all that out loud. “Sorry,” he replies, wincing a little. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

    “‘Course not,” Deadpool says. “Little goody-goody like you probably never means to say the bad stuff out loud. That’s cool, I get it. You hero types are too clean for that. Or I mean, I would get it. If you didn’t have some weird black clone thing going on.”

    “It’s not a clone,” Peter says. “It’s… Venom.”

    “Venom,” Deadpool repeats. “Okay, cool. The boxes are called White and Yellow, I guess everything really does have a name. Now we got the _who_ out of the way – mind telling me what the shit?”

    Peter makes a thoughtful noise. “I would mind, actually. So if you could just get off…”

    “Oh no, sugar plum. You are not going anywhere. I’m, like, 75% sure I said you’re not going anywhere until you tell me all the deets, and if I didn’t, now I have! So spill the beans Spidey, before I _really_ spill some blood.”

    “You won’t hurt me.” The words are out before Peter can stop them. “I mean,” he continues, “if you wanted me hurt, I’d already be hurt. You said you’re a mercenary, right? Getting money for the black Spiderman?” Peter arches up, pressing his own neck against the knife. Deadpool stills, frozen, and Peter feels the cut on his neck open back up. “Go on,” he says. “Claim your money, if it means that much to you.”

    “Jesus, Spidey!” the mercenary splutters, pulling the knife away. “What, you got a death wish?”

    Peter gets one hand free, and that’s all he needs. Moments later, it’s Deadpool who’s pinned beneath Peter, held absolutely immobile by Peter’s strength. “No death wish,” Peter says, regarding the mercenary below him.

    _“Kill him!”_

    “Look, will you just _shut up_?” Peter demands. “I’m not killing him, I’m not killing anyone, and you _won’t_ make me.”

    “You can, you know,” Deadpool says. “Kill me, I mean. If it will make you feel better. I come back. Can’t die, not for long. I’ll get to have tea with Death, and then I’ll be back. Great as ever.”

    Peter cocks his head. “Healing factor?” he asks.

    Deadpool grins. “You know it!”

    “But it still hurts, right? Dying.” The body underneath his jerks, and Peter’s grip tightens reflectively. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he mutters. “I’m not going to kill you.”

    “Maybe you _should_ ,” Deadpool suggests. “Be a lot easier to get away with me dead.”

    “I’m not going to kill you,” Peter repeats firmly. “That’s not my MO.”

    Deadpool hums. “But it’s your hang-on’s,” he points out.

    Peter grits his teeth. “Look, I don’t exactly expect you to understand. But there are reasons why Venom stays with me. I’m getting better at controlling it.”

    _“We refuse to be controlled!”_ the symbiote roars, and Peter shudders, hands flying up to pull at his hair. _“We are Venom, we cannot be controlled, we are_ Venom _!”_

    There’s a moment, a single, terrifying moment, where Peter thinks he’s lost. The symbiote crashes over him, sweeps him away, and he’s drowning in black, drowning and gasping and –

    He wrenches himself free, fingers pressing hard into plaster. He’s moved, springing across the room to keep away from Deadpool, to stop Venom from hurting him. The mercenary is staring at him silently.

    _“We are Venom,”_ the symbiote whines.

    “Well,” Peter says, panting. “ _I’m_ not.”

    He turns and flees.

 

-x-x-x-

 

    Peter isn’t surprised when Deadpool tracks him down later that week. He’s studying when his window squeaks, making him leap to his feet and turn to glare at the intruder. His hostility melts away when he’s greeted with a bright grin and a wave.

    “Hey there Spidey!” the mercenary chirps. “Fancy seeing you here.”

    Peter drops back into his chair, pushing his glasses up to rub his eyes. “What are you doing here, Deadpool?”

    Deadpool pouts. “Can’t a merc check up on his favourite spider?”

    “Not when said mercenary is trying to kill something that belongs to me,” Peter replies.

    _“No,”_ Venom hisses. _“You are_ ours _.”_

    Deadpool holds up his hands. “Okay, cool it. I promise I won’t kill this Venom thing if you let me… Stick around.”

    Peter squints, suspicious. “What’s in it for you?”

    “I get to make sure my favourite spider doesn’t get taken over by Venom,” Deadpool replies easily.

    Peter shrugs, stifling a yawn with his hand. “I won’t let Venom take over me,” he says, sliding his glasses back over his eyes. He doesn’t need them, but they’re a comfort he’s not willing to let go of. He turns his attention back to his notes, chewing absently on the end of his pen.

    “I figured out why, you know.”

    Peter definitely _doesn’t_ squeak – he lets out a very manly noise of surprise, because Deadpool has somehow snuck closer without Peter noticing. He’s standing right behind Peter, voice deep and rumbly. Peter thinks it’s a little unfair that Deadpool can sound so menacing, yet when he tries it, he sounds ridiculous.

    “Figured out what?” Peter asks, honestly confused. As far as he’s aware, there wasn’t anything that Deadpool needed to figure out. He spins around so that he can see the mercenary. Deadpool is standing so close that he was to crane his neck back to see his mask.

    Deadpool cocks his head. “Why you haven’t gotten rid of Venom,” he says. “It’s really obvious. And so _sweet_. Honestly, I think I’m getting cavities!”

    “ _Can_ you get cavities?” Peter asks, because he’s never had a good brain to mouth filter, and it’s worse because he can feel Venom sitting up and taking interest in his mind.

    “Well, that’s an interesting idea! I don’t think I’ve ever _tried_ getting cavities – hey. No changing the subject!” Deadpool waves a finger in front of Peter’s nose, and Peter goes cross-eyed trying to keep it in sight.

    “Sorry,” Peter says, trying to subtly roll his chair back further. He doesn’t like the mercenary being so close – it makes him feel… _Itchy_.

    Deadpool reaches down and grabs the arms of Peter’s chair, dragging him closer. Peter squeaks in alarm, but before he can make an attempted escape, Deadpool starts talking.

    “I figured it out because you’re such a little do-gooder,” the mercenary says, reaching out to pinch the skin of Peter’s cheek. Peter bats the hand away, crouching onto his chair so that if worst comes to worst, he can jump up onto the ceiling and escape that way. “Actually, the boxes were talking about it all last night and I couldn’t fucking sleep so I joined in on the conversation. Well, not _it_ , because who wants to talk about a creepy ass motherfucker like that?”

    Peter cocks his head as Venom growls in the back of his head. “Venom’s not _that_ bad,” he says, only he might be lying.

    Deadpool hums. “Whatever you say, baby boy. Anyway, we were chatting about that time, in my apartment? And it was like a fucking lightbulb moment. Like holy fuck. I get, like, one of those per fic? Way too low, in my opinion, but no one ever asks for my opinion, do they?”

    “No?” Peter offers hesitantly.

    “Damn right they don’t. They fucking should. But anyway. You jumped away so Venom wouldn’t hurt me, right? Super sweet of you. You make me think of Bambi, with your pretty eyes and the way you look so fucking _breakable_.”

    Peter bristles. “I’m not breakable,” he snaps back, slapping Deadpool’s hands away when he reaches for Peter’s wrist. “If it had been anyone else that night, you would have been dead. You should be _thanking_ me.”

    Deadpool nods enthusiastically. “Exactly! And that’s why you keep it, right?”

    “What?” Peter asks, thrown by the way the conversation is going. He’s not used to handling crazy people outside of his mask, and it’s showing. Deadpool’s running around him in circles, and Venom’s still snarling in the back of his mind.

    “Because if you don’t have it, someone else would,” Deadpool explains, and it’s the most coherent thing he’s said all night.

    And he’s absolutely dead right.

 

-x-x-x-

 

    At first, Peter hadn’t wanted anything other than to get rid of the symbiote. He needed to get himself back, needed to get rid of the voice in his head trying to sway him to do horrible things. He’d spent sleepless nights warring with the symbiote, fighting for control over his own body.

    Every morning he’d woken up to turn on the TV and see himself wreaking havoc, he’d died a little more inside. He was breaking down – _Venom_ was breaking him down.

    He found out how to get rid of the symbiote accidentally. He swung past a building project just as some of the scaffolding had collapsed. The resulting noise had made Venom scream, unlatching in a black, shapeless glob for the duration of the ringing noise.

    Peter had been beside himself. Finally, _finally_ he could be free.

    His joy lasted for all of ten minutes before realization hit. If he removed Venom, the symbiote would undoubtedly find itself another host. Another host who might not be as stubborn as Peter had been so far, who might lose to the symbiote and go on a rampage. _That_ would be on Peter. Someone else would lose themselves because Peter had been too much of a coward to keep fighting. Someone else would end up dying because Peter decided to take the easy option.

    He couldn’t, _can’t_ , let that happen.

    Peter stares at Deadpool, feeling Venom humming in the back of his mind. He can’t speak just yet, but he’s sure his expression is talking for him.

    _“Does he speak truth?”_ the symbiote hisses. _“You keep us, so that we may not take another?”_

    “Partly,” Peter says, finding his voice. “I’m not about to let you wander off and take over someone who can’t fight you off.”

    _“You wish to control us?”_

    “I wish you didn’t try to make me kill,” Peter snaps back. “I wish you would just give the power talk a rest.”

    Venom runs over his skin, black traces along his arms. _“We could leave you at any time,”_ it tells him. _“You do not control us.”_

    Peter narrows his eyes. “Then why haven’t you?” he demands. The symbiote is silent, and Peter shakes his head. “You won’t leave, because leaving means you _lose_.”

    _“We like this body,”_ Venom says. _“So strong, so fast… It would be a waste to leave it.”_

    Peter throws his hands into the air, smacking Deadpool in the face. He’d forgotten the mercenary was still there. He drops his hands and moves closer to the man, instantly contrite. “I’m so sorry!”

    Deadpool leans back, easily manoeuvring Peter out of his space. “Chill out, Spidey!” he says, voice cheerful. “It’s cute that you think you could hurt me.”

    “I could have hurt you though,” Peter points out.

    Deadpool shrugs, the movement rolling through his entire body. “Wouldn’t have lasted long. So you’re keeping slimeball around because you want to play hero.”

    Peter narrows his eyes. “Is that a problem?”

    “What? No way, world needs more heroes. Heroes like _me_!”

    “You’re a mercenary.”

    Deadpool waves a hand. “Semantics. Anyway, are you sure you won’t let me kill your little carry-on?”

    “Yes,” Peter replies firmly. “Venom stays with me.”

    _“We do what we like,”_ Venom says, sounding sulky. _“Not because you make us.”_

    “Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Peter says, rolling his eyes. He glances to where Deadpool had been, and is startled to find his room empty. There’s no evidence the mercenary was ever there.

 

-x-x-x-

 

    Peter is woken up later that week by someone falling through his window.

    Even before he sits up, Venom is rolling over his skin, mind humming with the strangely protective urge that fills it whenever Peter’s in danger. There’s a tingle of spider sense down his spine, and then he’s staring into the now familiar mask of Deadpool.

    Peter blinks, feeling Venom slowly begin to curl away. “Um. Hi?”

    Deadpool makes a strange wheezing sound that under different circumstances might have been a laugh. That’s when Peter notices the strong scent of blood in the air, the warm liquid dripping onto his skin as Deadpool sags onto him.

    Peter squeaks, accidentally pushing Deadpool onto the floor. The mercenary hits the floor with a dull thump, and it takes another moment for Peter to register that Deadpool _isn’t_ _breathing_. Everything seems to slow down, until he has all his senses straining for some sign that the man lying on his floor is alive.

    Peter’s not sure how long he waits, but eventually Deadpool’s heart gives one, slow thump. The tension drains from Peter when that one thump turns into two, and then three. The sound strengthens into a continuous rhythm, and Peter sits back with a sigh when Deadpool sucks in a gasp of air.

    “That’s some healing factor,” he says, flinching when the mercenary sits up. His movements are fluid, giving no indication that only moments ago he was a corpse on Peter’s floor. Peter’s spider sense sings another warning, and Peter has a moment to notice the knife in Deadpool’s hand before the mercenary is on him.

    _“Let us devour him!”_ Venom screeches when Deadpool knocks him backwards. Peter barely dodges the knife as it moves towards his neck – he kicks up, body moving instinctively to keep the deadly edge away from Peter’s very vulnerable throat.

    “Woah, hey!” Peter shouts, scrambling away from the mercenary. He raises his hands into the air, and when his back hits a wall he freezes. “Not a threat. 100% not a threat. You came _here_ , Deadpool. You died on my damn floor!”

    The silence from the other man is unnerving. It’s heavy, thick and cloying. Even if Peter hasn’t known Deadpool that long, he knows that the silence is wrong.

    “Deadpool?” he asks, carefully lowering his hands. “You okay?”

    Deadpool is frozen, mask blank and staring. Peter can’t even tell if he’s breathing.

    _“That is an impressive body,”_ Venom hisses hungrily.

    “Shut up,” Peter and Deadpool snap at the same time. They stare at each other in surprise, until it occurs to Peter that Deadpool was probably talking to his ‘boxes’. He pretends not to feel the blush spreading across his face.

    “Are you alright?” Peter asks again, tilting his head. “I don’t know if you noticed, but you just died on my floor.”

    That earns him a bark of laughter. “Hard to miss that,” Deadpool replies. “I had a tea party with Death and everything. Pity it was cut short – she was telling me the funniest story.”

    For some reason, the atmosphere is awkward. Peter fidgets, and Deadpool slides the knife away. Venom is quiet, watching, and Peter wonders if Deadpool’s boxes are doing the same.

    “Look,” Deadpool says abruptly. “I didn’t mean to come here, so I’ll just go.” Before Peter can reply, the mercenary is gone.

    Peter blinks at his broken window before turning his eyes to the blood staining his bed and floor. With a sigh, he pulls out the spare doona, strips down, and goes to sleep on the couch.

 

-x-x-x-

 

    It happens again. And again. Sometimes Peter comes home to find Deadpool in his kitchen, flipping pancakes and chatting to his boxes. The blood on the floor is dry by then.

    Sometimes Peter is woken in the middle of the night by Deadpool spilling into his bedroom, body broken and mangled. Peter learns not to speak until Deadpool does, teaching himself the boundaries that surround the mercenary.

    Sometimes Peter’s doorbell rings, and Deadpool is there in casual clothes and with takeout. These are the times Peter is most bewildered, because he doesn’t know what he’s done to make the man comfortable enough to lose the suit.

    Venom has calmed down a lot. Peter thinks the symbiote is trying to understand the mercenary like Peter, although he could be wrong. Venom still brings up the subject of killing, and Peter still tells it no, but it’s starting to become something of a routine. Peter doesn’t think the symbiote means it anymore, not like it used to.

    Perhaps worse is that Peter’s starting to _like_ the mercenary. As in, _like_ like. Or at least he’s crushing a little bit. It’s almost pathetic how just seeing Deadpool can make his day that much brighter. And he sees the mercenary too much for him to pretend he’s not feeling the things he is feeling.

    But even then, all things considered… It’s good. He’s on good terms with a mercenary who isn’t afraid to kill for him (Peter shouldn’t be happy about that, but sometimes he kind of is), and the symbiote isn’t trying to take him over anymore. They’re coexisting.

    It’s an odd sort of peace Peter never expected.

 

-x-x-x-

 

    “Wade,” Deadpool says abruptly one night. It’s the first thing he’s said since he ‘woke up’ on Peter’s floor. Peter blinks at him dumbly. “My name. It’s Wade.”

    “Oh,” Peter replies. After a moment, he says “I’m Peter.” Like Deadpool – _Wade_ – doesn’t know his name. He sighs at himself and pinches the bridge of his nose, ignoring the way Venom is snickering in the background of his mind and the blush spreading across his cheeks.

    “Peter,” Wade rumbles, and Peter almost chokes. There’s something about the way Wade says his voice that he can’t put his finger on, but Venom is _purring_ in the back of his head and Wade is looking expectantly at him like he’s waiting for a reply.

    “Wade,” he says promptly in reply. “Lovely to have you back again.” He yawns, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. “Trouble with Kraven?” he asks, feeling his lack of sleep creeping up on him now that things have calmed down.

    “Not this time,” Wade says, picking himself up off the floor. “Took on a giant fucking lizard. Had him running for the hills! Well, the sewers. God damn, he smelled worse than one of Weasel’s farts!”

    Peter hums in reply. He’s tired, so, so tired. He could fall asleep right where he’s crouching…

    “Peter?” Wade asks, and Peter’s eyes snap open in surprise. The mercenary is in front of him, way too close as usual. The problem isn’t how close he’s standing – it’s the fact that he’s _standing_ , and Peter’s _crouching_ in front of him.

    He makes a strangled noise and almost flips over in an attempt to put some distance between his face and Wade’s crotch. His cheeks are scarlet – he can feel them flaming.

    Peter lands, by some odd stroke of luck, on his bed. He moves automatically, burrowing under the covers until he’s made something of a nest. He feels safe, protected on all sides.

    _“He will leave now,”_ Venom says, sounding disappointed. It’s right – Peter catches the sound of his window opening and closing. _“You scared him away.”_

    Peter grumbles. “I didn’t scare him,” he mutters. “I don’t scare anyone.”

    Venom is silent for a moment. _“You scared me,”_ it finally says. _“Sometimes.”_

    Peter doesn’t feel tired anymore. He sits up, frowning intently at the wall. “Why would _I_ scare _you_?” he asks, bewildered.

    _“You are strong,”_ the symbiote says. _“Stronger than the other hosts on this planet. You fight. And fight.”_

    “I don’t understand why that means you were, at any stage, scared of me.”

    Venom hisses. _“The strength in you is greater than the strength we have. Why would we not be afraid?”_

    Put like that, it makes sense. But still… “I wouldn’t have done anything,” Peter points out.

    _“You wanted to,”_ Venom says. _“In the beginning. It scares us what could have been.”_

    “… Are you still scared of me?” Peter asks.

    _“More than ever,”_ Venom replies. The honesty in its voice makes sleep impossible. Peter spends the night sitting up and staring at nothing.

 

-x-x-x-

 

    Nearly a month goes by before Peter sees Deadpool – sorry, Wade – again. Peter’s busy saving people from a fire, flames hissing and biting at his feet as he swoops back in to pick up a crying toddler from the floor. His mother is nowhere to be seen, and Peter hopes he got her out.

    Peter’s about to go back into the burning building – his senses are tingling, but he’s almost positive that he can make it back before the building collapses with one or two more people – when a hand catches his upper arm and pulls him off balance.

    Venom rears up, black spilling across the red and blue Spiderman suit. Peter can only stare in surprise when he’s confronted with the sight of Wade standing in front of him. Venom retreats, a questioning presence in the back of Peter’s mind.

    “Wade?” Peter asks. “What are you doing here?”

    “Saving your stupid hero ass,” Wade snaps back, and the building Peter had been about to go back into explodes. Peter whirls around, mouth falling open in horror.

    _“We would not have been able to survive that,”_ Venom murmurs.

    “The people still inside,” Peter whispers. His hands are shaking. “I couldn’t –”

    Wade pulls Peter around to face him. “If you had have gone back in there,” he snaps, “you’d be dead. Main course of the day: barbecued Spidey. Not on my fucking watch.”

    “There were people I could have saved!” Peter shouts back. His hands are curled into fists, and he wants so badly to give into his anger. Anger, he knows, is much easier to handle than grief. Much easier to handle than guilt. He can push aside his true feelings and focus on the anger.

    _“Don’t,”_ warns Venom.

    “Shut up,” Peter says, cold and furious.

    _“Don’t,”_ Venom repeats. _“You will regret.”_

    Peter is about to reply, but he’s abruptly lifted off the ground. He makes an undignified noise, wriggling from his new position over Wade’s broad shoulder. “Put me down!” he hisses.

    He freezes in surprise when Wade smacks a palm against his ass. “None of that, Spidey,” he says cheerfully, skipping away from the crumbling, burning building. “I touched the butt,” he whispers.

    “Deadpool,” Peter starts, but he cuts himself off when Wade slaps his ass again. “Wade,” he tries, but he’s rewarded with another slap. Venom feels _amused_. Peter grits his teeth and lets himself be carried away, fists so tight he can feel his fingernails digging through the gloves, into his skin.

    Wade skips along until he reaches a pretty run down looking apartment block. Peter can only see it when they’re halfway up the stairs, because he’s facing Wade’s ass and the view leaves a lot to be desired.

    Okay, that’s a lie – Peter can’t help but notice that Wade has quite a nice ass.

    He’s dumped onto a ridiculously comfortable couch, and he has a moment to look around the room – if he had to use the first three words that came to mind, they would be dusty, weapons, Wade – before Wade dumps a greasy bag on his lap.

    Wade then flops onto the couch beside Peter, an inelegant sprawl of limbs that takes up more space than should be possible, and turns on the TV.

    When Peter just sits there, still a little shell-shocked, Wade nudges his hands towards the bag. At the sight of the tacos within, Peter automatically picks one up and starts eating it. He’s never been one to turn down free food, and apparently not even a traumatic event can change that.

    “How did you know?” Peter eventually asks, voice quiet. He’s not angry anymore – he just feels drained.

    Wade licks his fingers. “I had Weasel watching the net for anything on you or your hang-on,” he says nonchalantly. “Paid off – he called me last night to let me know this was going down today. I took care of the person responsible. I had to catch some flights last minute – lucky people love money, right? Flash some cash and they part like the Red Sea.”

    “ _Why_?” Peter asks.

    “Heck if I know – money’s not that great. Right, right. I guess because they don’t have a lot of it? I could use it to wipe my ass and give it to someone and they’d probably be grateful. Heyyyy, that’s an idea!”

    Peter reaches out to grab Wade’s arm, releasing it almost immediately when Wade tenses. “No, I meant ‘why did you do that?’” he clarifies.

    Wade doesn’t relax – instead, he goes still, like Peter said something astonishing. “That’s a stupid fucking question,” he says, voice oddly serious.

    _“You must survive,”_ Venom agrees. _“You are important.”_

    Peter shakes his head. “No I’m not. I’m just me.”

    _“Exactly,”_ Venom says smugly, like Peter’s somehow proved its point.

    Peter becomes aware of something standing over him – he looks up to meet the wide white eyes of Wade’s mask. The mercenary is close, in Peter’s personal space like he usually is, but there’s something… _Off_. A tense atmosphere that sends a warning tingle down Peter’s spine.

    Wade’s hand moves – Peter feels his fingers running down his throat. His pulse jumps, and he flushes because there’s no way Wade missed that. Wade’s fingers hook under the edge of Peter’s mask, and Peter lets him pull it off. He blinks to adjust to the change in light, and in that blink Wade somehow gets his own mask off.

    Peter freezes, hardly daring to breathe. It’s the first time Wade’s taken off his mask in front of Peter willingly. Peter’s seen his scars before – on that fateful day in the rain. But he never got a chance to see the most important feature of Wade’s face - his eyes. They’re breathtaking, consuming every bit of Peter’s concentration.

    “Stupid question,” Wade repeats, and it sounds like he’s smiling. Peter wants to blink, wants to see the smile, but Wade abruptly leans in even closer – close enough that his lips press against Peter’s.

    It’s a kiss. Peter’s brain stalls at the thought, and he can only gape at Wade when he pulls back. Peter can’t look away, and in some part of his mind he’s sure that he looks ridiculous. Wade steps back again, a clear retreat, and Peter explodes from his place on the couch.

    The first kiss was chaste. A gentle, tender thing that shines a light on aspects of Wade that people don’t get to see. The hint of hesitancy no one would expect from a mercenary, the careful hands holding Peter’s face like he was made of glass.

    The second kiss is brutal. A wild, restless thing that brings the darker side of Peter into the light. Peter nips at Wade’s lips, legs curled around Wade’s waist. Wade grasps two handfuls of Peter’s ass, licking his way into Peter’s mouth. Their voices merge, pants and breathy moans mixed with curses and sighs.

    The third kiss is different again. A lazy, long thing that starts after they’re both sated, and lasts long enough for them to start again. They switch – this time, Peter is the one writhing beneath Wade, the one with broken pleas tripping off his tongue. Wade is the one who whispers filth into Peter’s ear, the one who spreads Peter open carefully.

    Venom is voiceless, a content presence in the back of Peter’s mind. It participated the first time, lending Peter use of its ever-changing form. Now, it’s content to sit back, melting in the waves of pleasure Peter is losing himself in.

    “Of course I’d fucking save you,” Wade growls into his ear, pressing into Peter in a smooth slide. Peter whines, fingers tearing into the sheets. “As if I’d let you go.”

    “Wade,” Peter gasps, shuddering when Wade sucks a mark onto his throat. “Wade,” he repeats desperately, unable to form more complicated words.

    The pace is agonizingly slow, until Peter can’t even say Wade’s name. Only when Peter is completely incoherent does Wade pick up the pace. The sound of skin slapping against skin is oddly arousing, and Peter comes untouched. Wade’s name is a prayer on his lips.

 

-x-x-x-

 

    Wade wakes him up the next morning with the most exquisite blowjob Peter has ever had the pleasure of receiving. Venom purrs, stretching across his skin in a pleased mess.

    “It likes you,” Peter says when he can talk. Wade looks at him curiously. “Venom,” Peter elaborates.

    Wade grins. “Of course it does. _You_ like me.”

    Peter’s blush is worse than ever, and he tries to hide under the covers. Wade wrestles him out, sitting Peter in his lap.

    “You’re my hero,” the mercenary says seriously. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

    Peter’s heart feels like it’s going to explode. He lifts a hand to trace down Wade’s nose. “You’re my mercenary,” he replies. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

    It’s the closest either of them will get to saying “I love you” for a long time. But they have all the time in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> It's finally finished. I'm so happy. So, so happy.
> 
> Let me know what you think!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Dark Half](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7867081) by [beetle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beetle/pseuds/beetle)




End file.
